The narrative is: Canadian guy meets Hiroshima gal, then they have a couple of baby girls. The lighter side of bicultural parenting.

September 16, 2012

A Trip Supreme - Ottawa

Over
two weeks have passed since our return; I have decompressed and can type
objectively. Finding the right word to encapsulate the entire trip has proved elusive.
Instead, like a good free jazz session, I will boil down the disparate, loosely
defined elements to concoct a demi-glace of memories. Beware of the aftertaste as
I offer only fleeting glimpses, banal thoughts, and silly sensations of our
summer retreat to Canada.

Ottawa:
lush and green despite local obsession with the “dry” summer (no wildfires
threatening Kanata, now were there?). After four years since our last visit, I again
appreciate the space and envy the ample elbowroom between people—an extrapolation
of the expanses between cities, towns, and buildings. Curiously, only during
this trip do I sense that the road lanes are definitely narrower than in
cloistered Japan. Or maybe because the vehicle was larger? One warm evening, I
introduced my family to the Britannia beach neighborhood and Naomi felt the same kinship
with the place that I do. Must be the aquatic link and squadrons of shithawks patrolling the skies. Later that week, together with my brother
and his girlfriend, we enjoyed a tour of the capital’s sightseeing spots while perched
on a London-style double-decker tourist hauler. All the while, I ignored the
ironic voices in my head and enjoyed the moment.

Family:
The point of this trip was being with family. Every wonderful and occasionally exasperating
moment of it. Mom made a tremendous effort to make us feel completely welcome:
the downstairs bedroom was sparkling; a new bathroom was installed just for
visitors, and this main course was topped off with an array of playthings for
the Rising Daughters that would shame Toys ‘R Us.

We
sucked the marrow from the ten days. Examples: my extended family came for a mid-summer
“Thanksgiving” dinner. Nearly two decades since I’d last seen my cousin M., who
now has a very happy family not unlike my own. In general, Grampa and Nana did
their best to keep the girls occupied.

We took a trip out to Calypso water park,
which was splash-tastic. On the way back, we dropped in on some other relatives and found that my other
cousin R and her husband had produced the cutest little girl on the continent: “L.”
Here she meets “E” and “M”. We Are Family.

Old,
Irreplaceable Friends: I am lucky to have remained friends with many fine people
who tolerate our whirlwind visits with generosity of time and abundant humor. I
am grateful that our personalities still jibe in defiance of the passage of
time. We had a visit that featured mammoth, delectable burgers, and ample good
cheer. Bringing family with me meant no booze, though, as did the afternoon
time frame. With myself entirely to blame, such hyper-catch-up visits are like
speed-dating except these are people I really want to talk/drink/swim with for more
than a few hours. Next time!

Fishin’
and Drinkin’. This vacation timing was such that I could join the infamous
Father-Son Camping Weekend that Steve-O and Dad have been attending over the
years. Canoed in and out of the camp spot with my uncle Pat, who has a human hard
drive of great stories from his globetrotting over the years. He was kind enough
to mentor me on long-forgotten canoeing skills, otherwise I’d still be going
around in circles on the lake. And no chicks allowed! Key words: canoe, bivouacking,
beer, cussing without remorse, fish in beer batter, nasty snoring and enormous,
horrifying farts issued with extreme prejudice.The
main leg of our trip home thus ended, and we lit out for Vancouver.